‘Apparently there’s a rodeo on this weekend.’
‘Oh.’ Milla winced. ‘Yes, that’s true.’ But it had never occurred to her that the pub might be full. And now it was too late for Ed to set off back to Sydney.
She pictured him spending the night here with her, and a riffle of disquiet that was close to panic made her shiver. ‘I should have thought of that—I’m so sorry, Ed—I should have warned you.’
He didn’t look worried, however. ‘Most of the guests are staying out at the rodeo till late, so I still managed to book a table for us for dinner.’
‘But where will you sleep?’ Her voice made an embarrassing squeak on the final word.
Ed looked mildly amused. ‘I’ll be fine. Sherry tells me there are rooms in motels in Parkes and that’s only an hour away.’
‘Oh...yes, of course.’ Why hadn’t she thought of Parkes, instead of uselessly panicking? ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you a spare bed. There’s only an old camp stretcher here, and you wouldn’t want that.’ Ed was used to nothing less than five-star hotels. ‘I slept on it for the first couple of nights over here, and it’s not very comfortable.’
Ed merely shrugged at this and looked mildly amused. ‘If I took the stretcher, I wouldn’t have to drive to Parkes. We could enjoy a bottle of wine with our dinner.’
Milla was quite sure she could do without the wine.
But Ed was in persuasive mode. ‘You must agree we’ve both earned a relaxing meal and a glass or two, and I’d rather not drive and risk an encounter with your police.’
What could she say without sounding inhospitable?
‘Let me see this stretcher,’ he said.
* * *
The stretcher would do, Ed decided, although exactly why he was willing to sleep on it was a question he wasn’t keen to examine.
Chances were, he’d look back on this interlude in Bellaroo Creek as temporary insanity. But if he was pushed to give an answer, it wouldn’t be too hard to justify this return visit. He felt responsible for Milla. After all, he’d introduced her to Harry, and as a result her life had veered way off course. And everyone knew he was a responsible kind of guy.
His desire to hang around here had nothing to do with any finer feelings for the woman. Ed knew better than that. Sure, his blood leapt whenever he saw Milla, but falling for a person who couldn’t love you back happened to nearly everyone. He’d learned to accept this particular wound. It was permanent but bearable. A war injury he’d collected on the Cavanaugh family battleground.
Some time back, Ed had decided that relationships weren’t for him. They weren’t straightforward like running a business. There were no secure, blue-chip investments. Relationships were all about risk and loss, and it was easier to remain an emotional bankrupt.
Discreet affairs were fine. Anything deeper was out of his league.
As for now...his mission was simply to support Milla’s goals, to do everything within his means to ensure her success and future happiness.
With that achieved, he could leave Australia with a clear conscience, and he would finally close the door on this less than happy chapter in his life.
And now that Milla seemed to have accepted his plan to stay, she’d changed from looking scared to being resigned and practical.
‘If you’re going to stay here, I’ll fetch the sleeping bag from upstairs,’ she said. ‘It belongs to a friend and it’s designed for sleeping in the snow, apparently, so it should keep you plenty warm enough. And you’ll need to use my bathroom, so go bring your things in, Ed, and I’ll get a towel for you.’
She shot him a cautious glance. ‘The bathroom’s upstairs.’
‘I’ll wait till you’ve finished using it.’
‘All right.’
The sleeping bag was duly unrolled and Ed prowled around the downstairs area until the sounds from the shower stopped and Milla called down, ‘All yours...’
When he ascended, she was already in her bedroom with her door firmly shut. But the tiny bathroom was filled with her flowery scent, and he was all too conscious that she’d been in there, bathing.
He shut off his damned imagination before it got him into all kinds of trouble.
CHAPTER SIX
MILLA CAME DOWNSTAIRS in black leggings and elegant ankle boots teamed with a bright, leaf-green knitted top that fell to mid-thigh. It was a simple outfit but with her bronzed-copper hair and pale skin, she looked sensational.
Ed swallowed. ‘You look wonderful.’ Like an elven princess.
To his dismay, she blushed and looked embarrassed. ‘Let’s go,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m starving.’
Outside, a blustery wind whipped at them as they ran across the road. The pub’s carpeted foyer was warm and welcoming, however, and Milla was tidying her hair, tucking bright curls behind her ear, when her phone rang.
‘That’s Heidi’s ringtone,’ she muttered, digging her phone out of her shoulder bag. ‘Excuse me, Ed, I’d better answer it.’
‘Of course.’
She’d already explained about her friends Heidi and Brad, and he waited while she went to the doorway, where she stood with her back to him, looking out at the street while she talked.
Ed tried not to listen, but he couldn’t help pricking up his ears towards the end of her conversation.
‘No, that’s perfectly OK, Brad,’ she said. ‘I totally understand. Your farming and marketing plans would be very different from a small retail outlet like mine. Yes, yes, that’s good advice. I’ll find an accountant. Or a good business advisory firm. Got it. Thanks for letting me know. No worries. Yes, tell Heidi I’ll ring her in the morning about the barbecue. Thanks again. Bye.’
As she turned off her phone and slipped it back into her bag, she gave Ed a self-conscious smile. ‘Sorry about that, although I guess you’re used to taking endless phone calls in public.’
‘Endless,’ he agreed. ‘But over the weekend, I’ve switched off my phone and I’ve had my calls diverted to my long-suffering PA. I’m loving the silence.’
‘So no withdrawal symptoms?’
‘Not even the occasional twitch.’
Milla smiled and they were both still smiling as they went down a silky oak-panelled passage to the dining room where they were greeted by a very wide-eyed Sherry.
‘Nice to see you again.’ The girl beamed at Ed and shot Milla a look brimming with significance as she showed them to a table near the fire. Their table was set for two with a white linen cloth and starched napkins, shining silver and a small crystal vase of yellow jonquils.
‘This is rather elegant,’ Ed remarked with genuine appreciation as Sherry went off to fetch their selected wine.
‘Bellaroo Creek springs yet another surprise.’ Milla looked around at the other diners sitting at equally attractive tables. ‘Perhaps the hotel staff lifted their act for the busy weekend.’ A small smile played. ‘Most rodeo visitors don’t need starched tablecloths, but it shows the staff can achieve wonders when they try.’
‘As we have discovered today,’ said Ed.
She nodded and her smile grew broader. ‘The shop’s going to look fabulous, isn’t it? I can’t wait to get the bakery up and running.’
Ed hated to burst her bubble by pointing out that a few painted walls were a long way from a successful business. And he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t concerned by her end of her phone conversation.
I’ll find an accountant, she’d said. Or a good business advisory firm.
It was pretty clear she was seeking business advice, which her friend, Brad, had been unable to provide.
There was no way she’d ask for his help, Ed accepted grimly, but, although this rankled, he wouldn’t let it spoil the night.
After the wine arrived, had been tasted and poured, he raised his gla
ss. ‘Here’s to the Bellaroo Bakery.’
‘And to all who sail in her,’ Milla responded with a laugh.
It was the first time since he’d arrived in Australia that she’d looked so happy and relaxed. And so beautiful with the firelight reflected in her smiling green eyes.
I’m mad, he thought. I should get out of here now.
He paid attention to the menu instead, and they both ordered a Chinese wonton soup to be followed by the famous duck and mushrooms. And while they waited for the food, they drank their wine and talked about their favourite meals and their childhood pets and the similarities and differences between America and Australia.
Over the soup, they tossed around the pros and cons of baking organic bread made from specialised wheat.
When the duck arrived, their conversation was reduced to ‘Yum’ and ‘Mmm’ and blissful smiles.
‘This is really good,’ Ed said, spearing a dark plump mushroom with his fork.
Milla grinned. ‘Not bad for the back of beyond.’
‘Not bad for anywhere.’
‘I hope the chef stays.’
‘He might if the “Save Our Town” scheme works.’
‘Yes.’ Milla’s bright smile faded and was replaced by a thoughtful frown. ‘I hope it doesn’t turn out to be a pipe dream.’
Unable to help himself, Ed asked, ‘Is everything OK? With your business? I—I couldn’t help overhearing part of your phone conversation.’
The shutters came down on Milla’s face. ‘Everything’s perfectly fine,’ she said. ‘It—it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ She paid studious attention to the food on her plate.
It was damn frustrating to know that she might have a problem he could easily solve. ‘Milla, if it’s to do with the business, you know I can almost certainly help you.’
‘You’ve already done enough.’ She set her fork on her plate and sat back, lifting her napkin to dab at her lips. ‘I don’t need your help. Anyway, you have to go back to New York, and I’ll be fine. There are any number of people here who can help me.’
‘So you admit you do need help?’
Milla sighed. ‘Has anyone ever told you, you’re like a terrier with a bone?’
‘All the time.’
She smiled again then. And Ed smiled back at her. They seemed to be doing rather a lot of smiling this evening. Her eyes were the clearest green and breathtakingly beautiful, and he sensed a moment of connection that made his head spin.
Eventually, he said, ‘So now you know that I’m not going to give up, why don’t you just tell me your problem?’
‘It’s not really a problem.’ She looked around at the other diners who were scattered about the room, intent on their own conversations, and not paying them the slightest attention. With a resigned lift of her shoulders, she said, ‘It’s just that I need to write a business plan. It’s part of the council’s lease agreement.’
‘Hang on. You mean to say, you’ve moved into the bakery, you’ve started painting the walls, I’m buying equipment, and you still don’t have a proper agreement?’
Milla narrowed her eyes at him. ‘This is the bush, Ed. The council trust me. They know I’ll get it done.’
‘Have you ever written a business plan?’
‘You know I haven’t, but I’ll engage someone who knows how to write one.’
‘Like me,’ he said quietly. ‘I know these things inside out and backwards.’
‘You’re leaving in the morning.’
‘I don’t have to.’
It wasn’t strictly true. There would be all hell to pay if he stayed away much longer, but Ed had lived his whole life being the conscientious Cavanaugh. Perhaps he could blame being down under for this sudden, reckless reassessment of responsibilities.
‘I don’t know,’ Milla said with a worried shake of her head. ‘There’s a world of difference between the business dealings of Cavanaugh Enterprises and anything I’m trying to do here.’
‘Business is business.’ Ed topped up their wine glasses. ‘It’s simply a matter of scale.’
She seemed to consider this as she watched him cautiously over the rim of her glass. ‘So what would you cover in my business plan?’
‘Well...for a start, you’d need to show your estimated costs of production, your expected capacity and cash flows, and your break-even point. I guess the council would be interested in the range of your potential market, your sources for materials. The degree to which your business will help the locals. And you’d—’
‘OK. OK.’ Milla gave a smiling eye-roll as she held up her hands. ‘I think you’ve made your point, Ed. You could write my business plan in your sleep.’
Sherry arrived to take their plates. ‘Can I tempt you guys to try our desserts?’
‘Just peppermint tea for me,’ said Milla.
Sherry pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure we do herbals. I’ll have to check. What about you, sir?’ She batted her eyelashes at Ed. ‘Can I tempt you to strawberry pavlova?’
‘I’m happy with the wine,’ said Ed, impatiently returning to his conversation with Milla even before the girl had left. ‘Given half a chance, I could pull a business plan together for you in a day.’
‘Do you know enough about this district?’
He shrugged. ‘I can jump on the Internet to find any info I need. There’ll be government websites with demographics for the region.’
Milla’s peppermint tea arrived. ‘I found a tea bag,’ Sherry said, but she was too busy tonight to linger, which was probably a good thing, given Bellaroo Creek’s hunger for gossip. After she’d left them, Milla took a thoughtful sip of her tea and then set her cup on its saucer with excruciating care.
Her face was super serious as she looked at him. ‘Why are you doing this, Ed?’
It was a good question. A damn good question. Milla was probably worried that he had designs on her. But he wasn’t a fool. He’d learned his lesson when she rejected him on their very first date.
They’d shared one kiss, a kiss of earth-shattering passion—he’d never experienced anything close to the powerful magic of it before or since. And while she was sitting chastely opposite him now, she’d been wild and uninhibited on that night. A sexy, heart-stopping miracle. He had known then that he’d found someone very special.
And yet...
Ed considered the abysmal way Harry had treated her. And he thought about the angry phone call he’d received from his father two days ago. Gerry had berated Ed, as if he were somehow responsible for the loss of his grandchild...
And Ed knew Milla had every right to ask why he, another Cavanaugh, was here uninvited, offering to hang around and help.
He gave her the simple truth. ‘I believe my family owes you.’
* * *
His family owed her...
Ed’s answer sideswiped Milla. Her teacup rattled against the saucer as she set it down again.
She’d been so sure Ed was here to maintain some kind of Cavanaugh control over her. She’d been certain that his selfish, egocentric family assumed that she owed them a debt, simply because they’d allowed her into their hallowed, wealthy midst.
And now, at the mere mention of his family, the memories she’d been trying so hard to bury flooded her thoughts. The long lonely nights, Harry’s drunkenness and gambling. His endless affairs.
Her husband had hurt her and let her down in so many ways, and his hard, self-centred mother had always taken her son’s side and never supported Milla.
As for Gerry Cavanaugh, Harry’s father—he’d practically ignored Milla until he’d learned that she was pregnant with his grandchild, and then he’d sent Ed and a damn PI after her.
Now here was Ed, the one member of the Cavanaugh family who had every right to resent her, claiming instead that they
owed her.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Are you talking about money? My inheritance?’
Ed gave her a long, hard look without speaking. Eventually, she felt flustered and dropped her gaze. What was he implying? That the family should have warned her about Harry? Protected her?
But she’d been a grown woman, free to choose, to make her own mistakes.
And Ed’s presence in Bellaroo Creek was a constant reminder of those mistakes. ‘I crossed hemispheres to put it all behind me,’ she said.
Ed let out a heavy sigh. ‘I get that. And to be honest, I don’t blame you.’
Across the table, he sent her another sad smile, a smile that made her heart beat faster and raised more questions. Questions she dared not ask.
Milla was relieved that the meal had come to an end. There’d been times when it had felt dangerously like a date, and she was glad to hurry back through the cold winter’s night to the bakery.
Again they took turns using the bathroom, a situation Milla found ridiculously intimate, so she was tense as a trip wire when it was time to say goodnight.
‘I’m afraid I only have one small heater,’ she confessed.
‘In your bedroom?’ Ed asked.
‘Well...um...yes...’
Amusement glittered in his eyes and she feared he might tease her about this, but then he seemed to think better of it. ‘I’ll be toasty in my thermal sleeping bag.’
* * *
‘OK, I’m impressed,’ announced Heidi as she stood at her kitchen window, supposedly tossing a salad, but mostly staring out into her backyard where Brad and Ed were manhandling steaks on the barbecue. ‘I mean, I’m seriously impressed.’
‘With my cherry pie?’ asked Milla sweetly.
Heidi made a scoffing sound. ‘I’m sure the pie’s delicious, but, man, your American is hot!’
‘You sound like Sherry,’ Milla protested. ‘And you should know better. You know he’s not my American. He’s Harry’s brother and he’s here on business.’
‘But whose business?’ Heidi asked darkly. ‘That’s the big question.’
Miracle in Bellaroo Creek (Bellaroo Creek!) Page 7